


In The Public Eye

by SaintOlga



Series: fuck heteronormativity (and let's fuck Alex while we're at it) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr is So Done, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, F/M, M/M, Multi, PR - Freeform, Poly Family, Poly with Children, Polyamory, Social Media, Tumblr, media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintOlga/pseuds/SaintOlga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>20 Hottest Male Politicians in the U.S. of A. </p><p>Alexander Hamilton. The newly appointed Secretary of the Treasury is known for speaking his mind in media, but he is a joy not just to listen to but also to look at. The youngest Treasury Secretary in the history of the office, he accompanied President Washington as a member of his staff since his service in the army. Brains, beauty and bravery - this man is the whole package! His husband is a looker, too.</p><p>[Official picture of Alex in front of the flag, in suit and tie, eye bags masked by the lighting and photoshop, smile endearingly crooked.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Public Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted without proofreading. I'm updating it now, after it was proofread by wonderful [sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) whose services I won in a bid for [Fandom Loves Puerto Rico](https://fandomlovespuertorico.dreamwidth.org/).

**_Cutest Political Couples_ **

_[Picture of Alex and John at a fundraiser, both in suits, Alex’s hair down, John’s tied into ponytail. They are in a dancing position, but turned around to the photographer]_

_John Laurens and his husband Alexander Hamilton are one of those couples you think only exist in movies. They met in college, married as soon as it became legally possible, served side by side in the army, and stayed together, for better and for worse, acquiring on the way an adorable son and a dog or two. Now, Alexander is a well-known lawyer and a policy advisor, and John, in addition to being one of the youngest congressmen, is a spokesperson for the Veterans for Equality Association while also studying to become a veterinarian—“double vet,” how’s that?_

  

* * *

 

Peggy claims that it was bound to happen. She’s usually right about social networks and the media and all the stuff Alex claims to be too old to understand even though he’s only three years older and has accounts on every social platform out there. Still, she’s too busy to gloat because she has a lot of work to do now that John and Alex have gone viral.

"You two are just too adorable not to,” Peggy explains when yet another gif of Alex kissing John on the nose and John shining that impossibly wide and bright smile of his starts making the rounds. "You’re like Justin Trudeau with baby pandas."

John insists that he is Trudeau and Alex is a panda. "No, a koala. A Puerto Rican koala."

Burr just sighs and looks like a martyr. He’s been running John’s campaign for the Congress, taking a break in campaigning for Washington, who’s now establishing himself in the Senate while the presidential election is still a few years away, and he’s prepared for this.

After all, he has a perfect power couple for the Democratic left here. Both army vets, John with the Purple Heart, Alex with a list of commendations as long as his arm, college sweethearts and the cutest marriage tale. John has just started making waves in politics as a young, Latino, openly gay congressman with strong views. Alex has been making himself known before him, of course, by the same qualities, although he actually managed to do it more quietly, held back by Washington’s heavy hand. Still, he somehow wiggled his way to every late night political satire show at least once, even though he’s just Washington’s policy advisor with a side blog where he rants for so many pages it’s surprising anyone reads it. John was on the front lines of Black Lives Matter and gay rights activism for years before he decided to officially go into politics.

Burr plays up John’s work for the veterans’ organizations, his service, his medals. Peggy sets up his official Twitter and fills it with pictures of him holding rescue puppies in the clinic he volunteers at while finishing his degree. Burr argues with him for hours over which issues to push and which to hold back on. Peggy trains him to work the cameras like she did with Alex before him—the look, the smile.

He becomes a celebrity as soon he steps out from the shadows. There are Tumblr blogs devoted entirely to his freckles.

"I've got hair- eye- and hand- Tumblrs too, but I don't have freckles! This is so unfair,” Alex complains, reblogging yet another picture. John snorts.

"Is this your teenage girl blog?"

"It's not my fault teenage girls have the best taste in pop culture. And freckles,” Alex replies, and reaches over to kiss him.

“You know,” he says, settling into John’s side after some making out, “I was there first. I’m the politician, and you’re the spouse.”

“Is that so?” John asks archly. Alex looks up at him with a smirk.

“Yup. I’m JFK, and you’re my Jackie.”

John smothers him with a throw pillow.

 

 

It takes the media a couple of weeks to connect the newly elected Democrat congressman John Laurens to the Republican senator from South Carolina, Henry Laurens. It wouldn’t matter so much who is whose son, but when you have one half of the cutest and gayest political couple in the US and a Southerner who forgot to be Gone with the Wind and leads the charge against LGBTQ rights, it’s a media feast. What does Laurens Sr. think about his son’s same-sex marriage? How does it play into his firmly anti-gay views? Henry tries to play it off with platitudes; John has no comments for the press, but his comments in Congress are pointed and sharp.

Then  _The Reynolds Pamphlet_ digs into the timeline, connects John’s marriage and dropping out of school, and finds the paper trail on the withdrawal of tuition. All hell breaks loose.

Burr recommends leaving the situation at ‘no comment’ (“Ha!” is Alex’s reaction) and wait it out. John follows the first but not the second. He doesn’t comment on his past, or on his father’s actions. He just drags his newly acquired publicity escort of journalists and paparazzi to every rally, demonstration and NGO press conference he can find, preferably ones his father opposes. Henry says Blue Lives Matter; John goes to the Black Lives Matter rally. Henry defends the second amendment; John joins the protest with the slogan "I had to bear arms for this country so that no one needs to  _in_ this country,” his Purple Heart pinned to his chest. Henry condemns abortion; John goes to the Planned Parenthood fundraiser. When asked about his views on the issue, he says, “No comment,” and redirects the press to the designated speakers. Alex, who has to bite his tongue more often than not least Burr cuts it off, is jealous and impressed and excited.

Well. Most of the time.

 

 

“Listen, I get it: you want to make a strong stand. But do you have to do kick your allies on the shins in the process?” Alex hisses at him over the kitchen counter. Hushed, because Eliza is asleep in the guest bedroom (her and Alex are dating and she stays over like she did before they were dating, but now she and John flip a coin on who Alex sleeps with), and Alex can't sleep because of politics, so here they are, arguing in the dark kitchen.

“I'm not kicking anyone. I’m expressing the views my allies are supposed to  _share_ ,” John hisses back.

“They do! But you have to go for the jugular, don’t you, no matter what it does to both sides. Like with undocumented workers…”

“Yes, let's talk undocumented workers. How’s Washington’s employment record?”

“He’s… “

“Not even ‘cleaning house’ of those cleaning the house? Not ready for the presidential campaign yet? Risky of him. Or are you taking care of it, too?”

Alex clenches his teeth, his fists. John laughs unpleasantly.

“I'm not surprised.”

“Do you really want to punish Washington instead of going for someone really messed up? Or is he just collateral damage?”

“I'm not going for anyone; just stating my opinions in Congress. And _you_ … since when do you sound like Burr?”

Alex bristles.

“You were after me for years to learn diplomacy, but now that I have…”

“This is not diplomacy; this is cowardice.”

“Excuse me if I want my work in politics to last more than one term! Maybe you’re in it to piss off your father… “

“I'm in it to change something! But it's almost impossible to do with those who’re always…  _diplomatic,”_ he almost snarls. “And you sound too much like them. Tell me, Alex, do you still want to change the world? Or just sit at the table with those in power?”

“You know what I want! But in order to change the world I  _need_ to be at that table, and you know that, too!”

“You sound like Burr!”

Alex glares at him and shakes his messy hair; tries to tie it into a bun. The hair tie snaps.

“Even Burr makes sense sometimes, and oftentimes more than you!”

“Well then, go! Sit at the table with the rich and powerful you so want to be! Like my fucking father—hope you get along! But I'm not you, and my politics are my politics…“

“They reflect on  _my_ politics, if you haven't noticed! Do you know how many people I have to convince that we’re not of the same mind, that Washington definitely doesn't support such radical solutions as what you offer… And before you say something, neither do I! I like your goals, but your solutions need work.”

“You're just afraid.”

“I’m not!” Alex pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Or maybe I am.”

“Why?” John is taken aback by the sudden drop in his husband’s voice; the sudden, piercing calm in his fiery gaze.

“I’m afraid that your hijinks will cost me the office,” Alex says in a rush of honesty, brushing fingers through his hair again. “I'm already an unpopular choice for many—too young, too rich, too… minority.” He shrugs. “And now I have a volatile husband with radical political views who isn’t just marching in some rallies, but is actively working in the Congress, pissing everyone off. And I’m questioned, again and again, on my views, on what exactly I advise Washington to do, not to mention who wears the pants in this family,” he smirks bitterly. “Washington would be smart to use me until election, and then fire or move me to a useless, quiet position.”

“He would never do something like that. “

“Maybe. But he’s a smart man and a good politician…”

John steps closer; pushes his anger aside for a moment. Alex is still bristling, but there’s also deep-seated anxiety finding its way to the surface. He suddenly looks smaller—he always looks larger than life, his Alex, except for moments like these. John steps around the counter and takes him by the shoulders.

“He is. And he knows that you are, and always will be, anything but a liability. He knew it in the army, he knew it when he sought you out for his first campaign, he knows it now. And if he doesn’t… well, he’s not as smart as we thought, then.” He rubs Alex’s shoulders firmly. Alex tries to shrug against his grip. Tries to speak, but John rushes over him, “And if he does kick you out, you can run for an office yourself. Your partnership is good, for the country and for the two of you, but if it dissolves you can stand on your own perfectly well.”

Alex shakes his head.

“And what if I don’t?” he asks quietly. “What if my career has only gotten this far only because I was piggy-backing on Washington’s reputation? The venerated general-turned-senator and his rabid stray dog who nobody can kick out only because they’re afraid of the master…”

“Don’t you dare say that,” John says with fire, and drags an unwilling Alex closer with a tight grip. “I knew you before Washington did, when I was still one of the rich and powerful, and I believed in your politics then. I believe in them now.”

“Even though they’re too diplomatic?” Alex snorts, but doesn’t relax. He presses a cheek to John’s shoulder and sighs. “If my political career doesn’t work, what am gonna do…?”

“You will survive,” Eliza says dryly from the bedroom door. They both look up, startled. She comes over, dressed in John’s t-shirt, which hangs low from her narrow shoulders. With a questioning glance at John, she runs a hand over Alex’s hair from where he’s still held in John’s embrace. “You’ve survived so far; you’ll survive losing your career if it comes to that. Although in US politics, it’s hard to lose unless you’re having extramarital sex in the oval office.”

Both John and Alex snort.

“Trust me, all the sex he’ll be having in the Oval Office will be intramarital,” John says with a hint of possessiveness. Alex laughs and pokes him in the ribs.

“Are you calling dibs,  _Jackie_?”

This time, Eliza laughs with them and when John nods to her slightly, invitingly, she throws her arms around both of them, hugging tight.

“But just in case,” John says when Alex is finally relaxing between them, “Find yourself a hobby.”

Alex’s indignant yelp is muffled by the hug.

 

* * *

 

**_ Congressman John Laurens has announced that he is stepping down from the office to spend more time with his family. _ **

 

**_jahnloverence_ **

_what happened what did he do did he fuck some girl in the airport bathroom_

 

**_laumiltondaily_ **

_He literally is going to spend more time with his family because they are having a baby._

 

**_hamftw_ **

_It must be the first time a politician used this phrase literally._

  

* * *

 

 

The media leaves them alone for a while—well, leaves John alone. Alex is still the darling of the late-night satire; you could fill a whole hour with him, and he’s not even disgusting. But then the primaries start, and the focus is on Washington and his people, too. Usually the press don’t care that much about the candidates’ teams, but they remember that Alex and John sell papers, or whatever the electronic equivalent is. And they now have not one, not two, but _three_ bundles of joy (although one of them is in her pre-teen years, and big for a bundle).

They make the usual agreement with the press that the kids are off limits, but there are a couple of interviews at home, family style. (They have to hide their pictures with Eliza. They hate it. Alex spends the next two weeks apologizing to her despite her saying it's okay.) Thankfully, Frances is old enough to understand the game, and the little ones are too small to give it up. Also, Eliza is not Frances' mother, officially, so nobody bothers her with questions very much. They take pictures with Philip crawling all over their laps and Alex rocking Angelica to sleep, and the Internet blows up. 

There are still candids, of course.

"There’s a debate over who's cuter with the babies: John or Matt Bomer,” Alex announces, not looking up from his phone.

"Me,” says John.

"Matt Bomer,” says Eliza. John looks wounded. She shrugs. John takes out his phone and looks up the pictures.

"I need to carry Philip on my shoulders more,” he says with conviction.

“Good idea, Jackie. Work up my political mojo with your fatherly charms,” sing-songs Alex. John swats at him. Eliza knocks her head to the side.

“Wait,” she says. “If he’s Jackie, does it make me Marilyn?”

Alex looks up from his phone with this horrible expression like he’s going to start apologizing again. 

Eliza is known to the public as a "close family friend" and a "surrogate" mother who is involved in the children's lives. There are pictures of her, too (“Good for them; you’re gorgeous,” Alex says, and puts one of the portraits on the wall). She declines interviews. When interrogated, John says that she is a dear friend who gave them such a brilliant gift, blah blah blah, but he is completely sincere and actually doesn't say a word of untruth. Alex has to wiggle more, but he distracts by the way of speeches about the children of gay couples and complications in women's career paths. They leave the impression that Eliza is more interested in her career than in relationships, and that she was going to just be a surrogate but then fell in love with the children, to the mutual agreement of all. It's not the best –there are a lot of comments about women's roles, and mother's hearts, and other bullshit. But it's the best they can do.

  

* * *

 

_1 - 20 of 738 Works in Political RPF - US 21st c._

_1 - 20 of 189 Works in Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens_

_11 Works in Alexander Hamilton/George Washington_

_2 Works in Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/George Washington_

 

 **_Meet Me Inside_ ** _by **politic-o**_

_Real Person Fiction, Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Political RPF - 20th-21st c._

**_No Archive Warnings Apply,_ ** _Alexander Hamilton/George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, George Washington, Blowjob, Oral Sex, Inspired by Real Events, by which i mean look at primaries footage, find yourself a man who looks at you like AH at GW, i don’t know how tags work, American Politics, Election_

_George Washington, President-Elect of the US of A, finds a way to express his gratitude to his policy advisor. In the Oval Office._

  

* * *

 

Driving Alex home, Washington is acutely aware of the cleanliness of his hands. It's not just the "I have just washed my hands" feeling; it's "I've just washed my hands after I jerked my cute subordinate off in the campaign office,” and he has to make an effort not to rub his fingers against each other to feel the fluid stickiness again.

Alex keeps looking at his hands, though. Apparently, he has a thing.

Washington is driving him home—to _Alex's_ home—because as much as he would love to take him somewhere else and fuck him senseless, they are both adults with responsibilities, one of which includes an early morning speech for some association and another taking children to school, so fucking senseless cannot happen spontaneously as it does in the movies. They will have to schedule it. Probably two weeks in advance.

"You okay?" Alex asks. Washington turns to look at him, surprised, and immediately loses himself in his eyes. Those eyes. He still can't decide what's better—being the object of their full intensity when Alex is jerking him off, or seeing them go soft and unfocused and lost when he reciprocates. He needs to check and compare a few more times.

"Okay,” he replies, swallowing. "Why?"

Alex shrugs.

"We didn't talk about it... much. And things are complicated. With the campaign, and you being the boss, and also... me. I know that you know that I have John and Eliza, and that they are okay with it, but I never asked you how you feel about it."

Washington thinks for a moment.

"I'm okay. You will need to explain some things to me. But not now." They’re almost there, and he doesn't want to keep Alex in the car to talk; keep him from his family, from his bed and sleep. Alex needs sleep. They all do. Politics run on coffee and bad, sleep-deprived decisions.

Alex nods, loose hair falling around his face. He never tied it back after Washington took the band off, threading his fingers through the strands while they kissed. He had one hand or both in Alex's hair the entire time. Apparently, he has a thing.

"I'll put it on your schedule," Alex laughs, and the quirk of his lips is one of those things that drives Washington crazy with the desire to touch. But now he can, and he does—reaches out, traces the corner of his lips with his fingers. Alex's lashes flutter half-closed; he lets out a soft breath and catches Washington's fingertips with his lips. Washington may or may not make a little sound in the back of his throat. Then he has to drag his hand back, and his eyes to the road. He thinks he needs a medal for that. Maybe when he's the president he can create a medal for being able to withstand Alex's charm and award it to himself.

Speaking of being president... They definitely need to talk. Because this is something that can break their careers with one whiff of a scandal. They both know that—they’re not a pair of horny teenagers, after all, even if making out in the empty campaign office speaks to the contrary. They are rational adults who are already too different for their chosen political paths and can't allow scandals that wouldn't matter if either of them was a white, rich, republican-family-values kind of guy. They need a strategy.

Washington thinks of informing the team of this new development and groans.

"What?" Alex raises his head from the phone where he’s texting something. Or Tweeting. Or writing in his Tumblr that no one is supposed to know about because he isn’t supposed to have a blogosphere presence outside of the campaign, but he has like five different personas on different platforms, all thankfully untraceable unless you’re Peggy. All of them very opinionated, of course.

"I was thinking about the strategy meeting on the topic of... this." He gestures between the two of them. Alex rolls his eyes and then catches Washington's hand; laces their fingers together and lowers them on his knee, his thumb running over the knuckles.

"I’ll set up video to capture every expression," he says with a half-grin. They don't have to talk about the serious consequences right now. They know them too well. There will be time.

Washington brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses Alex's fingers.

  

* * *

 

 **_Alexander Hamilton_ ** _@adotham_

_From me and @jlau - Happy Holidays!_

_[A short video of Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens with their two younger children and a selection of pets, all dressed in Ugly Holiday Sweaters, waving at the camera.]_

 

 **_Alexander Hamilton_ ** _@adotham_

_New Year Resolutions:_

  * Vote Washington
  * _Go to gym more_
  * _…_



  _Yours?_

   

* * *

 

Aaron Burr remembers a conversation he had with Alex once, in the library—during college, they both lived in the library. That’s what got them close when nothing else would. They couldn’t read any more but were too tired to go home, so they were talking in slightly slurred voices.

“When I’m in politics,” Alex said, staring at the ceiling, “I want to be married to a man. Or male-identified person. I mean, if I fall in love with a female-identified person I’m not going to refuse, but you know, politically.”

“Why?” Burr stared at him, incredulous. It would make things so much harder than they already are for Alex. For him, too, but at least his citizenship is unquestioned. He could run for presidency. Although then they might ask for his birth certificate, just to make sure…

“Because I want to be the first openly bisexual politician in the White House,” Alex announced to the ceiling. “As our general understanding of bisexuality basically sucks, being a bisexual man married to a woman would render me basically straight in the public eye unless I start fucking rentboys in airport bathrooms which, ew, no. It would be difficult to straightwash me if I were married to a man."

Burr nodded, but then asked, "Wouldn't they gaywash you instead? Is it a thing?" His knowledge of the queer community politics was much less extensive, but he can extrapolate. Alex shrugged.

"They would, of course. But being anything but straight in the office is revolutionary enough for the mainstream, and I can bite off some corporate gay heads when we get to it."

Burr shook his head than. It was a strategy he never could understand. Why create complications in your life by challenging the world, when you could just deal with the challenges already thrown at you?

Then he met professor Prevost and started to understand.

 

 

Many years later, they’re in the campaign office, so tired they can’t go home—Burr jumping at any sound that might be a phone buzzing, Alex with an imprint of some statistics on his cheek because he fell asleep into it fresh from the printer.

"Have you given any thought about what to do about your... arrangement?" Burr cringes immediately, apologetic. "Sorry, that sounded wrong. I mean, now that you aren’t an intern on a senator's campaign, but the policy advisor on the presidential campaign and a potential office member, there will be more scrutiny of your personal life. All of ours, actually. But yours is the most..."

"Queer?" Alex can't help but supply. Burr rolls his eyes.

"Actually, I did think about it. We all did." There is a certain hardness around his eyes. It was a difficult conversation (or several), and difficult decisions had to be made. Fuck heteronormativity. But in his case, they’ll have to make certain concessions.

Burr snorts. "I still can't believe that you have time not only for two _lovers_ , but to two _children_ as well." But his voice is soft, and his eyes go distant for a second. He doesn't speak about his family as much as Alex— _nobody_ speaks as much as Alex, and nobody shows every picture and video to everyone in the office like Alex does—but he cares about his wife and daughter so much it shines in his eyes every time he looks at the small picture on his desk, or at Theo's caller ID on the phone screen.

Still, he presses his lips together in thought. Alex has to prompt him with a look.

"What are you planning to do if you're discovered?"

Alex beams brightly. "Well, we have a contingency plan!"

"And what is it?"

"You."

 

 

A few minutes (or is a few years?) later, he comes out of Washington’s office in the campaign center stunned. Like, Star-Trek phasers-to-stun, only still somehow moving. Alex is still at his desk; they’d both been working, planning an all-nighter before Washington called Burr in and handed him a nuclear bomb with a timer.

“You,” Burr growls, striding to Alex. “You bastard. You think I’m going to cover your ass now?”

Alex looks up. He’s biting his cheek from the inside and his eyes are huge, but he grins in challenge.

“Not mine. His.” He nods at the office door. Burr clenches his fists.

“He gave me the option to resign if I’m uncomfortable with it. With non-disclosure agreement, of course,” he mocks. It’s definitely _someone’s_ intonation, clearly just heard.

Alex rises from his seat; stands face to face with him.

“Are you going to?” he asks.

Burr really, really wants to say yes.

“No,” he manages finally. “This is a good campaign. _Was_ a good campaign, until you had to literally  _fuck it up_ , Hamilton.”

Alex puts his hands in his pockets, hiding nervous gestures. Burr taught him that.

“I can hide my wife from the public; I can hide this,” he says firmly.

Burr sighs heavily.

“Well,” he says, deflated. “At least now we know who’s Marilyn.”

Alex glances at the office door, and his eyes go anime-wide.

  

* * *

  ****

**_Adorable Political Families_ **

_In the last few years, it’s been impossible to cover the hottest and the cutest of US politics without mentioning Alexander Hamilton and his husband and children. But after the shocking revelation that he also has a wife, and not in secret, but in a happy threesome, we have to look at this family again!_

_[Picture of Alex, Eliza and John posing for the Getty Images, fake-relaxed on the garden swing.]_

_[Candid photo of all three somewhere in the park, Angelica on John’s shoulders, Eliza leaning on the stroller with Jamie and Frances holding a pouting Philip’s hand while Alex gives each of them an ice cream from a large bunch he’s awkwardly holding.]_

_Apparently, Hamilton’s smoldering eyes and clever tongue helped him score not one, but two incredibly beautiful spouses. We have covered the best attributes of John Laurens, his husband, in the past. Thankfully, he is not camera-shy, and appears at many rallies and demonstrations as an activist of Black Lives Matter, gay rights and veteran’s movements. Eliza Schuyler, on the other hand, was until now the elusive “family friend,” introduced as a surrogate mother to Hamilton’s children, Phillip, Angelica, and James (their oldest, Frances, is John’s daughter from a previous relationship). Now it has been revealed that Schuyler isn’t a friend, but a family member, and the three of them are in happy partnership of many years. Brought into the spotlight, Schuyler, CEO of a green energy giant, has taken to speaking out on the issues of clean energy and climate change. The whole family is so outspoken, who knows what happens when their offspring take the stage!_

  

* * *

 

After many weeks of the media hurricane, they become The Family. Partly it's because nobody can figure out how to splice three different last names together; they can't be The Obamas or the Bushes, and while there were attempts at the Laurens-Hamiltons once, already a mouthful, they are now rendered obsolete. There are different last names in their documents, and in their children's birth certificates, not that they ever would give it up to the press. (Phillip is Schuyler-Laurens, and Angelica, with her freckles, is Schuyler-Hamilton, and Jamie is Laurens-Hamilton because of Eliza's sense of fairness, and Frances says they will hate their parents for this name shell game. At the signing of custody papers, nine-year-old Frances chose to be Manning, like her birthmother, making Henry Laurens livid once again and John proud, as usual.) But you also can’t go anywhere without them being discussed. After a while, there’s no place left in the political sphere where they aren’t playing a role, even as scarecrows. So now they’re The Family.

To be fair, they almost end up being _only_ "The Family”—scandalous celebrities without any political office—when the Republican part of the Senate requests Alex's removal from the office on the morality clause. Fox News and the late-night shows chew over each moment of the debate. Washington refuses to consider the request. It's his second term and he’s given up on interparty diplomacy, instead steamrolling the country as far left as it can get (still too centrist, in John's opinion).

Alex stays in office, although his job becomes much harder, opposition lurking in his own garden and headed by the very scandalized Vice President Adams. John does a yearly tour of Pride Parades, his rainbow flag now featuring the polyamory infinity heart. Eliza, to everyone's outrage, actually loses her job due to the morality clause. She picks up her new notoriety like a mantle and runs for Senate unopposed. Her soft smiles and upper-class manners don’t hide her true nature for long—she decimates the Republicans on the Senate floor, and her husbands brag about it on Twitter for days. Then Hamilton comes to present his budget plan, and she takes that apart, too. He brags about it as well.

(There's a picture of him by the end of it, with eyes suspiciously shiny. Tumblr has a debate over whether his expression is pained or orgasmic.)

After Washington is done and Warren is inaugurated, Hamilton retires from the office; steps away from public life. He spends most of his time at Mount Vernon, ostensibly writing a book but probably getting his brains fucked out instead. Other times, he's with the children, taking John's place as the house husband.

Burr is ready to force him to run for presidency just to get his family in line.

"Abortion? Of course I support women's right to their body, completely,” Eliza says on O'Reilly's with a sweet, sunny smile. “Not just access to abortion, but to other reproductive health procedures as well, at request, with no one but herself to make decisions, as any adult has a right to do. In fact, I had my tubes tied after my third birth, and continue to be very happy with this decision.”  

"My father is a bigoted dinosaur who doesn't even hold the beliefs he spouts,” John announces on the live interview with Good Morning America on Father's Day eve. “He just holds his position in the party so dear that he'll choose it over his children and grandchildren, who don't fit the narrow standard the party sets for their own."

Frances takes Lafayette's son Georges to the prom. She's wearing a tux and he's wearing a dress. She's still underage, and should be out of the media's reach for a few more months, but she posts the pictures all over the social networks and then gives Buzzfeed an interview about gender roles and prom being an outdated ritual introduced as a proxy for society gathering aimed at marrying the young people off, and being ridiculously gendered and somewhat creepy.

Aaron goes home to his two Theos and maybe cries a little.

Then Theodosia reminds him that he doesn't actually work for The Family. He is both relieved and hurt by this.

  

* * *

 

**_ahamsweater_ **

_A side blog for the many and varied public appearances of the one and only sweater of the former Secretary of Treasury, bestselling author and Pulitzer winner Alexander Hamilton._

  

_ALEXANDER HAMILTON JUST ANNOUNCED HIS CANDIDACY_

_people_

_we can get The Sweater_

_to the White House_

_GET READY TO VOTE_

  

* * *

 

“Burr,” Alex says, lowering himself into the seat opposite from him in the restaurant.

“Hamilton,” Burr replies levelly.

A beat.

“I need you to run my campaign,” Alex says, foregoing all the small talk. Burr blinks.

“Don’t you have someone to do it already?”

Alex shakes his head impatiently.

“I don’t want others; I want _you_. Or are you running Jefferson’s again?” He twists his mouth unpleasantly. Burr can’t but mirror the gesture slightly.

“No,” he replies, toneless.

“Didn’t think so. Any other job stopping you?” Hamilton waves away the waiter without even looking. He’s acquired some haughty manners hanging out in high places. Needs some work—people don’t like arrogance in small things, only in big ones. Not that Burr is planning to be the one doing it.

Although he doesn’t have a job at the moment.

“Explain to me why you want me specifically,” he says firmly. Alex sighs.

“Are you asking for compliments?” he inquires wryly.

“Not really. I know I’m good,” Burr says in the self-assured tone carefully developed over many years. “But that’s not the only reason.”

Alex slumps in his chair. Presses his lips together.

“Oppo research,” he says in the end. Burr quirks an eyebrow. He expected this. “I don’t want anyone else to find what you already know.”

Burr nods, but Hamilton isn’t finished.

“You never gave it to Jefferson,” he says, with a hint of a question. Burr shrugs.

“He wasn’t running against you. There was no point.”

Alex shakes his head impatiently.

“I don’t think that’s the only reason. You could give it to him now—he’d make you his campaign manager again.”

Burr straightens a bit.

“I still can,” he says levelly. Alex looks directly at him, dark eyes searching for something.

“No,” he says finally. “You wouldn’t. That’s not how you roll.”

“Really,” Burr replies. “And you know me so well.”

“I do,” Alex insists. Burr smirks.

“Well, I definitely know you,” he says quietly, with an intonation that makes Alex fidget uncomfortably. Burr pins him with his gaze for several seconds and then leans back.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay? Is it agreement I hear?” Alex shakes the uncomfortableness immediately. Burr makes a show of a heavy sigh.

“Yes, Hamilton,” he says with a long-suffering look.

Alex grins widely.

“Great!” He shifts, settling down in his place, tension gone. Flags down the waiter. “Let’s have lunch. How’s Theodosia Senior?”

“Good,” Burr replies automatically. Not that good, actually. But he and Alex haven’t seen each other in years, after that big fight over him going to work for the Republicans. Their children grew up enough not to need the adults for their play dates. They weren’t working together, so there was no point in overcoming their rift. Anyway, it’s not something he wants to talk about right now.

“Your hair’s long again,” he remarks. Alex runs a hand through the strands tickling the corner of his mouth.

“They say it makes me look dignified,” he says, and flutters his eyelashes. “What do you think?”

“First, never do that again in public,” Burr replies calmly. “Second, it does. But be prepared to discuss your hair products.”

  

* * *

 

**_Meet the New Family of the White House_ **

_Yesterday, in the end of a tumultuous and eventful race, Alexander Hamilton was elected President of the United States. While we’re waiting for his inauguration speech, let’s have a look at the First Lady and the First Gentleman of the United States—now this is a first!_

_[Frames of John Laurens and Eliza Schuyler listening to Hamilton’s victory speech, with their children around. It switches to fragments from the campaign where John, Eliza or both are following Hamilton to the crowds; or making speeches in his support; or standing next to him while he talks.]_

_We have had one or another, but never together. But Hamilton’s spouses were very visibly present during his entire campaign, with the exception of that tragic month when their son Philip was shot by a protester who planned to attack his father, and his parents took care of him during the recovery._

_[Frames of Hamilton, pale and withdrawn, braving his way through a speech, immediately switching to Philip now standing next to his parents at the victory speech, smiling widely.]_

_Now, the question everyone's asking: how will the First Couple share the duties of their unofficial but so very important office? To discuss it with us, meet the former Chief of Staff of the previous First Gentleman..._


End file.
